


Beats.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Based on Angel Beats, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7702045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Phil Lester dies and finds himself stuck in a place between life and death, a finishing school for dead teenagers with unfinished business. There he meets Dan, a soul he remembers from his last memory before his death. How exactly did he die, and how was Dan involved?</p><p>(Based on the anime, Angel Beats)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beats.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the brilliant (and emotionally destroying) anime, Angel Beats :)

Prologue.

When Phil Lester died it was completely, totally and inexplicably…fast. When people die they speak of an immense bright light, or at least that’s what his great uncle Cam had said after accidentally waking up during brain surgery. He thought he was going to die, and Phil remembered clutching his hand by his hospital bed and his uncle sitting upright, staring into space. Clinical white bandages were wrapped around his head which meant the operation was a success, but uncle Cam had never been the same.

Uncle Cam died for four minutes and fifty two seconds.

Phil was only nine at the time. Uncle Cam had been sitting in muted silence for almost two days. The doctor’s thought he was never going to recover after somehow coming through the aesthetic, “It’s just the darkness,” Uncle Cam had spoken so softly that at first Phil hadn’t completely acknowledged what the man had said, He looked up from his Nintendo DS and found the man staring at him, and Phil couldn’t help swallowing uneasiness building in his throat. “It was just dark!” Uncle Cam’s raspy whisper suddenly became a terrified squawk and at that point the kind nurse who had offered Phil a glass of orange juice, had to usher him out of the room while his uncle screamed and screamed and screamed. “LISTEN TO ME!” the man cried desperately. Phil remembered pressing his face against the window, being unable to walk away- unable to ignore the words his uncle was yelling and screeching.

“Phil, listen to me-” Uncle Cam had reached for his hand before he could pull away, and shocks of terror zipped down Phil’s spine as the man held onto it for dear life. “Never die, do you hear me?” the man was crying now, and it made Phil’s eyes sting, seeing a man he had known his entire life, a straightforward, hard-talking businessman with a muscular face and deep set brown eyes that narrowed when Phil had expressed his interest in becoming a writer at the age of twelve. “Writer?” Uncle Cam had scoffed only a few months ago. Before they found the monster; a benign brain tumour the size of a nut. “Hey, why don’t you join a local football club? I hear David and Carmel are setting up one after school?”

But now Uncle Cam was completely unrecognisable. Everything that made the man who he was; the hard, judging eyes, muscular arms and meaty face. It was all nothing. Because the fear in the man’s eyes shining so brightly with intensity that it terrified Phil was enough to say that the uncle he knew was gone.

“There’s NOTHING!” Uncle Cam cried. “I was dead for four minutes and there was fucking NOTHING!” his words chilled Phil to the bone. “There’s no bright pearly gates!” Uncle Cam continued to yell before the nurses stuck a needle in his arm. “There’s nothing! Do you hear me?!

Phil had been ushered to the waiting room and then picked up by his mother and father. They told him not to worry, that Uncle Cam had been through something incredibly traumatic and that the man was talking nonsense. But Phil remembered his uncle’s face when he had started screaming, felt the icy skin of the man’s hand as it grabbed his in a pulverising grip. “NEVER DIE!” the man screamed over and over again, until Phil was well-away from his uncle’s ward. But he still heard the screams all the way down to the waiting room, bouncing off the walls- playing over and over again in his mind. Settling into his thought processes. Those words would reply in Phil’s mind on a loop for exactly nine more years.

Never die.

-

_It was ironic that Phil died at the age of eighteen, and truthfully, he didn’t remember much about his actual passing, or how he actually died. He did however, remember intense bright colourful lights bathing him in warm perspiration that made his skin almost shine. He remembered loud music- and dancing. He had been dancing, and maybe he had been a little bit drunk. Everything had been slightly blurry and off-balance, but he remembered not caring, really, really not caring at all. Because if he remembered correctly, it had been his first night as an official student at the University of Manchester. Freshers week. He had been so damn nervous, but after a few too many sambuca’s and cocktails, he was strutting his stuff on the dancefloor with his classmates, with the people he was happy to spend the next two years with._

_He had of course been too drunk and far-gone to remember his Uncle Cam’s words._

_Phil bounced up and down, waving glow-sticks in the air so colours blurred around him in the time to the beat which thrummed through him, sending shivers up and down his spine. “You’re cute!” someone, a boy? Said, from behind him. Normally he would have scoffed and laughed, but not tonight. Because maybe he was cute? The thought made him giddy with excitement. He had put a lot of effort into tonight. Straightening his coal black hair into a fringe which fell in front of bright blue eyes. The lights in the club intensified his usual eye colour of sky blue to a brilliant burning sapphire which stuck out in the crowd._

_“What’s your name?!” a girl with bright purple hair had screamed in his face after they had both successfully completed the macarena which a bunch of others. Though Phil had been so drunk he had managed to get all the moves wrong, to the purple-haired girls amusement. “Phil!” he had yelled back, before knocking back a drink he found on the bar. He wasn’t sure if it was his, and like everything else, every thought and worry about starting university or student finance and his housemates. All of it seemed to drift into a tolerable fog in the back of his mind. He realized at that point, with the purple girl right in front of him grinning like crazy, and a reasonably attractive boy bumping his shoulder suggestively- that he really liked alcohol._

_That, and he was going to throw up. Phil let out a gurgled laugh and attempted to hide it. He didn’t catch the girl’s name. “Excuse me!” he squeaked, still laughing, despite his stomach churning and complaining underneath his thin cotton t-shirt. The purple-haired girl just giggled and nodded. He took that as cue to dart to the bathroom. A song had been playing loudly as he shouldered his way through the dancing crowd of sweating bodies throwing themselves into each-other to the beat._

_The men’s toilets were close, but Phil wasn’t sure if he was going to get their in time. His throat burned with vomit and he quickly covered his mouth. Thankfully he quickened his pace and reached the twin doors labelled “Male” and “Female” before slamming both hands into the wooden mahogany of the door. There was a moment of panic then. Had he wandered into the girl’s toilets?_

_He hung back for a second before a tall boy with shaggy red hair and skinny jeans stormed out in a rush, barging past Phil._

_Thank god. Phil grinned and then remembered his predicament. Fuck, he had definitely overdone it. With one hand still over his mouth he pushed the door open with his other and it swung open, allowing him to step, or rather stumble inside._

_Only instead of finding himself in the bright mundane fluorescent lights of the men’s toilets, he was met by an otherworldly piercing light so intense his retina’s burned. The light was warm and welcoming and damn beautiful. Before Phil even knew what he was consciously doing, he was walking straight towards it, and the music which had been aggressively assaulting his eardrums accompanied by the cheers and loud drunken singing of his peers. It all seemed to stop then. Not completely. But as he neared the light, the party atmosphere seemed to drift further and further away until it was a dull ringing in the back of his head._

_It was replaced by a sudden striking and overwhelming silence which enveloped him. The only thing he heard, which was faint and almost inaudible in the back of his head, was his uncle’s distant cry,_

“What did I tell you?”

-

“I think he’s dead.”

“That’s not funny.”

Silence forgotten, his uncle’s words still playing on a loop in his head, Phil sat bolt upright and the first thought that struck him was that he was no longer drunk. The fuzzy and distant feeling that had encased his head, feeling like being dipped in candyfloss, was gone and in it’s place was a sudden, terrifying feeling of emptiness. Though he couldn’t explain it. Something had been ripped away from him and he felt it- he felt where it should have been. Phil managed to get his bearings, sitting up properly, and then shuffling backwards with a muffled cry, when he realized there were three pairs of eyes staring down at him. “Shit!” the word was flying out of his mouth before he had chance to say anything else.

“That’s normally the thing people say when they wake up, don’t worry,” a voice murmured. Phil glanced up to find himself meeting eyes with the most impossible shade of green he had ever seen. They belonged to a tall boy with curly brown hair which fell in eyes the colour of moss. He was leaning against a metal pole which lined the building they were currently on. “It’s okay, just take a time to adjust..” the boy smiled at him gently, and he had a hard time not smiling back.

“Did I..did I pass out?” were the first things to come out of his mouth is a gush. Strangely, his mouth wasn’t dry and he didn’t feel the usual urge to have a drink of water. He ran his tongue over his dry lips and frowned, looking around, confusion clouding his expression. “Wait, where the hell am I?”

He sat up properly and this time had a full view of his surroundings and the strangers standing over him. He seemed to be lying on concrete- on some kind of roof. When he tried to peer over, all he saw was blank white sky and the outline of a huge building. It stood in three stories covered in windows, and when he tried to overlook it- he saw..nothing. Just playing fields below, and the occasional bench and picnic table. The sun shone brightly through the clouds, but something felt wrong about it. He didn’t feel it’s warmth on his face. He only saw the shadows it reflected. One of the boys bent down and smiled, holding out a hand. The sun reflected off his dark brown hair and he cleared his throat. “You okay, mate?”

“I..” he tried not to think about how beautiful the boys looked. There was something about them that didn’t make sense, that was wrong. But for now, Phil forced a smile and nodded. “I think so?” The boy with the dark brown hair smiled and shook his head. “I’m going to take that as a no then.” he grinned mischievously. Like the curly hair boy, this boy also had green eyes, but this time they were a lighter shade and seemed to sparkle playfully.

Wait are they school uniforms? He frowned at the three teenagers who wore identical clothes which looked spookily similar to school uniforms. Except there was no school crest. It was only a burgundy polo shirt, black pants and a white blazer. “Why are you-?” he caught himself after realizing he too was wearing the uniform. He let out a frightened squeak and started to tear at the material of the cotton shirt which seemed- after a few impatient tugs- to be stuck to him. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on?” he waited for his chest to clench and his heart to start pounding as he began to panic, but just like that empty feeling he had woken up with, there was nothing.

Phil stared at the third boy and felt a spark of shock travel up his spine. However, he revelled in the sudden spike of similar emotion which flooded him. He felt shock. So there wasn’t anything seriously wrong with him, that was good.

No, it wasn’t a boy at all. It was a girl. She had short hair cut into a boyish cut which was a pretty shade of radiant red which was intensely hued making it look purple. The girl was wearing the burgundy polo shirt and white blazer, but this time wore a pleated skirt. He frowned at the three of them, trying to think of a reason why they were here, why he was here. But all he remembered was the nightclub. “It takes a while to get used to,” the girl murmured. But she didn’t seem to want to meet eyes with Phil for some reason. He took in the three kids, which seemed to be his age. But they didn’t look like teenagers. The sun seemed to bath them in a warm light which made them almost look like- well, they looked like…

“So, what’s your name then?” The curly haired boy offered a hand to help him up, and he took it, letting out a small gasp when the boy yanked him up as if he was as light as a feather. “Phil.” he answered in a breath, trying to figure out why when he stood he suddenly felt like he was floating. His limbs felt strange, like they weren’t even connected to his body.

He felt like he was walking on clouds, or wading through water. He shook his head and cleared his throat, facing the three kids. “Where am I?” he demanded. But his voice, as hard and scrutinizing as he wanted it to be, came out in a choked whisper. He swear the boy with the playful gleam in his eyes smirked. “I don’t understand…is this Manchester?” he scanned the strangers’ faces and from their expression’s he knew their answer.

“Not exactly…?” The curly haired boy muttered. He seemed to be torn between telling Phil the truth or giving him a warm welcome.

“So..so where is here?” Phil asked, and once again he waited for his chest to start thrumming painfully, like every time he started to have a panic attack. But not this time. He stayed completely calm.

The other boy jumped in. “Uh..it’s hard to say?” he shrugged, folding his arms. “Some people call it heaven, others call it The City of God- uh..Purgatory, The Promised Land, Avalon…”

“Chris, stop.” The curly haired boy’s eyes hardened for a second before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What?” the boy- Chris- rolled his eyes while the girl was looking straight past him into the distance. The sun was setting and Phil realized he had lost complete sense of time. “Do you want the long version or the short version?” the curly haired boy asked softly. Normally Phil’s heart would spike with fear at that kind of expression and tone of voice, but instead he just stared numbly. “Just tell me everything.”

The other boy, Chris, let out a whistle, and the girl with the extravagant hair colour seemed to finally meet eyes with him. He felt something then. Something- familiar. He knew her. But when he tried to rack his mind for the memory, there was nothing. It felt like there was a wall standing stubbornly in front of the memory.

The girl had light grey eyes, and when he really looked into them, all he saw was pain. He saw something which made him look away quickly. Pain and suffering. She looked haunted. “Okay, so I’m PJ, and this is Chris and Emma,” the curly haired boy introduced himself and the others and Phil nodded, folding his arms. “Okay.” he was panicking now, but not how he normally panicked; his physical body felt numb. His head however, his thoughts were going crazy. A million questions buzzing in his mind like a swarm of locusts. PJ didn’t say anything then and Phil got more impatient. “What?” he waited for PJ to say something but the boy looked away.

“To put it simply, you’re dead,” PJ laughed for some reason. It wasn’t watching the blood drain from Phil’s face really, it was the utter absurdity of their situation. His laughter was hysterical. The kind of chortle which bubbles up your throat and lets loose in loud guffaws that you can barely control. “Well, we’re dead actually.” the boy sobered up a bit to take in Phil’s expression which was utterly blank.

Dead. The word hit him like a tonne of bricks and he felt himself start to freefall. No, I can’t be dead. I’m standing right here!

He didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until PJ slung an arm around his neck in what the boy hoped was a sympathetic gesture. “Think of this as…finishing school for the dead.” he said gently. This time all traces of humor were wiped from his tone. Phil didn’t say anything, only stared down at his palms and willed himself to remember. If I died, I must REMEMBER how I died?!

“Finishing school?” was all he choked out. Then after surveying PJ’s expression and the slight smirk on Chris’s face, he let out a forced laugh. “This is- a joke right?” he searched PJ’s face for a glimmer in his eyes and waited for a punchline. When nobody answered him, he made a noise which was a cross between a cry and a hysterical laugh. “So if I’m dead, I can just jump of this roof?!” before he knew what he was doing, he was gripping the steel bars so tightly spots of white were blooming on his knuckles. He looked across the playing fields below and tried to spy anything, fucking anything beyond that. But it was just endless white. Like the pearly gates of heaven.

“Trust me, people have tried killing themselves again.” Chris was at his shoulder, icy breath tickling his ears. “Lou tried stabbing herself just last week,” he sighed and joined Phil, leaning against the railing and staring out into the fake sunset. “We just come back about five minutes later with no signs we even tried.”

The word again made Phil feel sick. He continued to stare out onto the glittering horizon. The sun was setting slowly leaving streaks of orange and violet across the sky, illuminating everything and leaving shadows dancing across the playing field below. He was about to swing his leg over the railing and test this theory for himself- when he caught a sudden movement in the distance. He squinted, frowning. “What is it?” Chris leaned forward and let out a groan before scoffing and jumping on the railing, balancing on his legs whilst swinging forwards so recklessly Phil was scared for a second that the boy was going to topple of the roof. “Shit. Get down!” Chris whipped around, his eyes wild. “PJ, do we have the others on Standby?”

“Yep! We need to get back to the school quickly.” was PJ’s hurried reply.

Before Phil could do anything, he was being man-handled against his will and dragged across the roof while he kicked and screamed to be let go. “What the hell are you doing?!” the fact that he was dead wasn’t really sinking in still. “It’s standard protocol,” PJ said as both him and Chris hurled him back to “base” wherever the hell that was. “He picks up on any lost soul which has just recently died and arrives here.” The boy’s words had a sense of finality to them. That was it then. He was really, honestly and truly dead. Phil stopped struggling then and let the boys and Emma take him to wherever the hell they planned on taking him. As he was dragged, he let his body relax, his head tilted backwards so he was hanging upside down. He stayed there for a second, stuck while his body swayed to the boy’s footsteps as they dragged him further and further away from the roof.

“Who’s after us?” He heard himself say warily, when really, all he wanted to ask was if this was some kind of really, really sick joke.

“Just one of the prefects,” Chris replied, his tone hardening. “Their soul purpose is to get us to move on..” he trailed off and got choked up. “Bastards said we need to ‘come to terms with our deaths’ and go into the light or whatever.” he let out a shaky laugh. “Fuck that, right? That’s why we’re going to fight.” PJ nodded. “If they touch you, you relive your death..” he too seemed to be unable to explain it properly. “Then you disappear.” he said with a chilling scowl. “Poof. Gone.” when Phil didn’t say anything, the boy sighed. “It’s bad enough being dead, but moving on?” PJ shivered. “When you move on, you really die. And there’s..well, there’s nothing.” the boy cocked a head thoughtfully.

“It’s just darkness.” PJ’s words echoed that of Phil’s uncle and he felt his stomach clench for the first time and Phil couldn’t help looking back as the boys dragged him, Emma staying a few meters away holding what looked like a semi-automatic. “How can you even…?” his words cut off when he finally noticed whom Emma had her gun pointed at. “Wait..” he heard himself murmur. Too softly for the others to hear so they continued to pull him away.

“Em, shoot on my order and only my order, okay?” PJ nodded at the girl, who hummed in reply. Phil stared across the playing fields, at least a mile away, there was a boy walking towards them. He didn’t look threatening and there was no weapon in his hands. The boy wore the school uniform but looked remarkably different from the others. He still bore their beauty, but there was something else..

“He’s a real show off,” PJ muttered, not looking back. “How come we don’t get wings?”

Wings?! All that came to Phil’s mind was that Lynx advert with the women, or angels as they seemed to be portraying, dropping unceremoniously from the sky.

Phil wanted to laugh at PJ’s words, but when he squinted and really looked- there, thirteen feet across in diameter and the color of the sky, were two identical unfurled wings spread either side of the boy which made him look like some kind of- well, maybe they all were.

The wings seemed to be larger than the boy and Phil realized he still couldn't see the boys face. It was lost in the darkness as the sky was now a deep dark black stretch which seemed to go on forever. This is it. Phil thought.

I’m really dead, this is actually some kind of purgatory school, and that teenage boy really has wings. “Why are you scared of him?” he asked, his voice was shaking. Though really, the thought of the strange boy, Angel even? coming over and touching him making him re-live his death and remember it before come to terms with it and move on?

No, he was definitely not ready to move on.

“So how exactly do I help ‘defend’ myself then?” Phil asked weakly, with a touch of sarcasm. Both PJ and Chris whipped around with twin looks of glee. “Hell yeah, another rebel,” Chris grinned. PJ mirrored Chris’s smile and grabbed Phil’s unsuspecting hand excitedly. “Welcome to the SOS Brigade!”

“SOS?” Phil repeated with a frown. He was still staring at the boy who was getting closer and closer. They were at the school’s back entrance now. Nothing more than a steel door which looked more like it led into a bunker than a school.

“Save. Our. Souls.” PJ enunciated with a wink. When Phil rolled his eyes, PJ only laughed. “Hey we’re dead, let us act like kids again. Just for the time we have left.”

Phil didn’t even try and hide his broken smile.

Chris yanked the door open for them to usher him inside, only to slam it shut with a deafening crash. Phil felt his heart sink slightly. Part of him wanted to see a face- personality, to the winged boy. “We’re safe in here,” PJ’s voice echoed when the four of them stepped inside. “They can’t get us during class time.”

Class time? How can they have class at this time? “It’s dark?” Phil couldn’t help saying. PJ scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Dude we’re dead and we’ve been transported to a purgatory finishing school for dead teenagers with unfinished business. Oh, and our enemy is an angel who is also the class president,” he smirked when Phil shot him a dirty look. “My point is, anything and I mean anything is possible.”

Phil didn’t reply, only stared ahead and let his mind wander. Vague memories of his time at high school crashed into him and he winced at the sudden memory making itself known.

Loud and incessant chatter, lockers clanging loudly and the sound of footsteps clacking on the linoleum floor. “What lesson are you in next?”

Phil was fifteen again. Young again. Alive again.

Except this was different. There were no other kids. Just him, PJ, Chris and Emma all standing on an empty hallway lined with lockers. The layout of the school looked more American than anything else. There were even “Pep rally” posters glued over every available surface. “Why does this school look like the set for a Disney movie?” Phil noticed the “Callbacks” poster on the wall and despite everything, felt a smile tug on his lips.

“We’ve figured out that this school, or whatever it is taps into our subconscious and disguises what the place really is with what we are most comfortable with.” PJ smiled softly. “Like, with me, when I first arrived here, I could hear “Don’t you forget about me” playing on the speakers. Though once you get used to it, you should adjust to the norm.” he reassured.

“Breakfast Club.” Phil breathed. PJ nodded with a small smirk. “Yup. What do

you see?”

This is stupid he thought stubbornly. PJ rolled his eyes. “Just close your eyes for a second and concentrate.” the boy said in a sing-song voice. Phil felt like ignoring him and saying it was a stupid idea, but he was dead. What else could he possibly lose? He sighed and folded his arms with a frown before hesitantly shutting his eyes and willing his mind to concentrate. “Now open them.” Chris sounded more excited about the idea than him.

“This is ridiculous..” Phil grumbled, cracking one eye open and warily looking down the long corridor which then seemed to arch in his vision. Boring wooden doors and plain linoleum made way for bright posters covering the walls, shiny lockers and a bright orange basketball just sitting in the middle of the hallway. He started to smile a little.

One of my all time favorite childhood films.

Phil eyed the ‘wildcats’ uniform encased in a box sticking to the wall and shrugged. “It..” he hesitated before tearing his eyes from the display and could almost feel the hallucination fading away. “-doesn’t really matter.”

The case seemed to blur then- bright red “Wildcat” uniforms making way for a yellow and red cheerleading uniform with the familiar letters “SUNNYDALE HIGH” - then he was eagerly searching for more, and spotted a library right at the end of the corridor. When he looked closer, he swore he saw an old 90’s outdated computer reflected in the glass of the door. He couldn’t help grinning despite everything that was happening.

Chris rolled his eyes. “I bet you anything he dreamed up Twilight,” he snorted when Emma nudged him.

“Okay then!” PJ trilled as they reached the end of the corridor. The three of them at an aging door. Two words were printed there in crumbling letters, and Phil felt a rush of childhood nostalgia. All the American films and TV shows he watched when he was a kid.

Principal’s office.

“So, Phil,” PJ smiled at him suggestively. Chris and Emma stood either side of him silently. “Are you ready to meet the others?”

~

“Others?” Phil echoed as PJ, Chris and Emma lead him into the office and PJ turned around, flashing him a grin. “What?” he lifted an eyebrow with a sharp curl of his lips. “Did you think it was just us?” Phil felt like answering with something sarcastic, but stopped when he entered the room. It was your average office what you would imagine would be in a high school. There was a circular table covered in books and stray sheets of paper- a laptop computer sitting on the lot and next to it a half empty glass of water. The room looked cosy enough, but looking past the fluffy black rug and lamp sitting on the desk, Phil couldn’t help noticing the boarded up windows, the collection of deadly weapons hanging on the wall near the door, and the pretty blonde girl sitting in what looked like the principal’s chair.

“Got another one, Lou.” PJ ushered Phil forwards and he stumbled. The girl was very pretty, he realized. Like everyone else. She had long curly blonde hair held up in pigtails, tied by ribbons. She had the school uniform on too and Phil noticed a familiar angelic look to the girl. “What’s his name?” the girl had a fierce expression, her eyes, he realized, were a bright shade of blue. She had her feet up on the desk like any other school principal, except this girl looked barely eighteen.

“Phil.” Phil answered for himself. He had a hard time looking the girl directly in the eyes. I wonder how she died he couldn’t help thinking.

“Phil.” the girl said his name like it was an enigma that needed solving. She studied him for a second before her lips curved into a small smile. “How’s being dead for you so far?”

Phil lost his breath then, and for a second he thought he was going to faint. Then he let his eyes wander, taking a good look around the room, this time spotting other unfamiliar faces dotted around the room. They all resembled PJ when he first saw the boy. Beautiful.

“It’s…strange,” he all but spat out when the girl cocked her head with a frown. But he didn’t look at her, instead he scanned the faces curiously. All dead he thought sadly, trying to figure out how these kids died. They were different ages, but all at least around sixteen to eighteen years old. He caught the eye of a sandy haired boy who was sitting cross legged on the floor, staring right back at him. The boy smiled at him and Phil tried to smile back.

“So has PJ given you the lowdown on the SOS Brigade?” the girl- Lou he guessed- asked.

“Yeah.” He replied curtly, continuing to sweep the room. Everyone else seemed to be preoccupied with what looked like some kind of mission. There was a map spread out on the table with Chris, Emma and a short brunette girl bent over it. Across the room There was a girl with ebony hair and a look of frustration on her face who was fiddling with a box of what looks like bullets. He avoided looking at her and ended up meeting eyes with three boys standing at the back of the room.

Phil felt his heart if he had a heart it would start to beat in his chest, and he was momentarily taken aback by the feeling. He thought he had lost it but no he could still panic, or at least get flustered. The three boys were like any other kid (or angel) he had seen, because ever since seeing the actual winged boy he never thought he would see anyone else who had such angelic features. He realized with a jolt that there was one particular boy standing there with bored expression and a black leather jacket- he started to breathe unevenly, feeling his stomach clench, his heart slam and he swore sweat trickled down his forehead.

They look like dead One Direction he thought with a small smirk. In their rebel phase.

The other boys were dressed differently; they had the school uniform on and hard managed to rip the sleeves and ditch the blazer. But this boy, he had the school shirt and tie on along with a black leather jacket. He had a mop of brown hair falling in matching eyes and when the boy caught his eye, he swore the stranger’s almond eyes widened.

“We call him Caspar the friendly ghost-” Lou was saying in the background, but her voice sounded distant, a barely comprehensible whisper.

Because it wasn’t just the boy’s beauty that caught his eye. It was the familiarity in the sarcastic smirk when PJ started to go on a tangent- something about rules. It was the olive skin and square jaw that stood out- but mostly, it was the guitar leaning on the wall beside the boy. Phil swallowed and couldn’t look away. Neither could the boy because now the brunette was unfolding his arms, a mixture of confusion and surprise in his eyes. Then he was slowly walking over, and Phil started to panic again- his heart leapt, his stomach twisted and his tongue tied itself in knots.

Impossible. Phil thought with a swallow. The boy was getting closer and he was finding it harder and harder to breathe. I’m sweating Phil felt like laughing. My heart is pounding, my stomach is in knots. The boy finally stopped in front of him and he felt a shiver rip it’s way up his spine. He felt alive. He actually felt alive.

“Hey!” the boy surprised him with a dimpled grin and Phil did recognize this boy’s voice. But it felt wrong. He knew the voice, but the boy was a stranger. The boy met his eyes and for a small second, he swore he caught something flash in his eyes. Hurt, pain, suffering.

Then it was gone as quick as it had come. The boy was back to having the expression of an excited puppy. “Sorry!” the boy laughed a little “-this sounds insane, but have we met?”

~

_“Move!” the boy with bright red hair barged past him and if he wasn't having to physically gag his mouth then Phil would have shoved him back. But quickly the boy was forgotten, and nothing but a speck in his thought processes. Phil felt vomit crawling up his throat, ready to projectile itself out of his mouth in a wonderful spray of everything he had drunk and the bagel he had eaten earlier._

_Oh god, please not in front of anyone. He bent over and groaned as he pushed his way into the boys toilets and dashed to a cubicle, falling to his knees and throwing up neatly in the surprisingly clean toilet. After emptying the contents of his stomach, Phil leant against the toilet lid, panting and trying to catch his breath. His mouth tasted of stale vomit and the icy cold lid of the toilet was refreshing against his burning cheek. Sobering slightly, Phil stood up and managed to stagger out of the cubicle and over to a line of sinks. He ran the cold tap and splashed water in his face several times and let droplets slide down his face. Phil surveyed his reflection in the mirror and sighed._

_The boy’s toilets were so quiet. The only sound was his breathing and the quiet clink of something scraping against a surface. The lights were easy on his eyes and he was eternally thankful for that. What was he going to do? One of his roommates he barely knew was going to be his ride home but the last time he saw Noah the boy was making out with a crop haired brunette pretty aggressively. Showing no signs of stopping anytime soon_

_It was at that moment when Phil was fiddling with his fringe and trying to wipe a smear of vomit off his shirt- when he heard a soft, yet audible sob from behind him. He turned, frightened for a second as the familiar feeling of anxiety hit him. Oh god, did they see that?_

_But the feeling quickly distinguished when he realized it was just a boy- his age with a scruffy mop of brown hair and a battered leather jacket. Phil frowned at the kid, and before he knew what he was doing he was taking a step towards the stranger. He wish he hadn’t. The boy was curled over one of the sinks, hands gripping the basin so tightly his knuckles were turning white. But his face was completely obstructed by a fringe. “Ex- excuse me?” Phil said loudly. Then boy’s head snapped up and turned to look at him and he lost his breath a little._

_Eyes the literal colour of melted chocolate were staring, dazed, back at him. They were red rimmed and raw. The boy, still staring at him, sniffed loudly and shook his fringe out of his face._

_The boy was crying. There were tear streaks down both of his cheeks and his cheeks were a warm shade of red. Phil couldn’t help it. He moved closer ever so slightly and suddenly wished he hadn’t. He caught a flash of silver in the boy’s hand and his stomach twisted._

_Oh god, that’s what the clinks were._

_Seemingly ignoring Phil, the boy bowed his head once more, a curtain of hair blocking his face once again. Phil caught another silver glimmer- this time on the basin in front of the boy. Three identical silver rectangles lined up. Spots of scarlet decorated the surface._

_A razor. The boy had the sleeves of his leather jacket pulled back, and held out his arm, which had three shallow but fresh cuts decorating his wrist. “Hey.” Phil was talking before he even realized. “Are you..?” he trailed off when he noticed the beaten up guitar standing on the sink next to the boy. The guitar looked ancient. Some of its strings looked ready to snap._

_“Sorry, I don’t mean to invade but are you okay?” Phil tried his best to smile, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the scarlet trail of blood which was slowly making its way down the boy’s arm. The stranger didn’t turn around, only kept his head bowed, the razor still in his hand. Phil couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, you need to blot this, okay? We need to stop the flow.” his hands shook as he rushed into one of the cubicles and grabbed a roll of toilet roll before dashing back to the boy._

_“Okay, so we’ve got to stop the blood.” without thinking he was grabbing the boy’s arm, and the stranger didn’t fight back to his surprise. Instead the boy collapsed to his knees and dragged Phil down with him. “It’s-its okay-” Phil was really bad at reassurance. He kept checking the boy’s arm underneath the layer of tissue he was pressing down on the cuts._

_“It’s not okay!” the boy burst out suddenly in a shaky cry. Phil jumped a little bit but nodded. “Okay, okay, so uh..do you mind telling me what’s bothering you?” he watched the boy draw his knees to his chest and wipe his eyes with his free hand. Phil waited patiently while the boy seemed to struggle to speak._

_“This is okay, y’know.” he nodded to the boy’s cuts which had slowed to a steady manageable flow. Tiny specks of blood spotted the tissue and Phil smiled at the boy. “It just means you’re human-” he shrugged and let out a little laugh. “See, you’re bleeding.” the boy frowned at him and Phil saw the corners of the kid’s mouth curled into a small smile._

_“Yes I’m bleeding.” the boy rolled his eyes and sniffed. “It’s what humans do, you idiot.”_

_Phil laughed too. “No, it means you’re alive!” he stuck out his tongue when he giggled. Okay so maybe he was still a little bit drunk._

_The boy sighed. “Alive.” he repeated, grumbling. “What’s even the point if we’re going to die anyway?” he huffed and turned away from Phil so he couldn’t see his eyes fill with tears. “Why am I even here?” Phil felt a stab at the boy’s words and he sighed, leaning against the rough marble walls. “What, do you mean why are you on earth?” he started to stammer and hated himself for it._

_“No!” the boy laughed, and it was a real, genuine laugh and Phil found himself smiling at the way twin dimples appeared in both of the boy’s cheeks. “No, I mean here. Why am I at university?” he let out a harsh laugh and gestured to the beaten guitar. “I was in a band, y’know.” he stared longingly at the instrument before seemingly snapping out of it._

_“And..?” Phil wanted to understand why the boy chose to self-destruct himself. The boy shrugged. “Dunno. Mum wanted me to go to law school but I had my heart set on Darla’s Art School For The Gifted.” Phil frowned. “That’s a weird name..?” but the boy was grinning. “I’m kidding. I wanted to go to Chastity music school,” Phil opened his mouth to speak but the stranger carried on._

_“She made me burn all my song-books, everything even remotely linked to the band,” and then he snorted. “I brought Rusty to sell to some punter, but nobody wants him.”_

_“Rusty?” Phil couldn’t help smirking. “You named your guitar?”_

_“And you don’t name your stuffed animals?” the boy shot back. Phil whistled softly and leaned further into the wall._

_“Anyway, this is stupid..” the boy got ready to jump up but Phil was still pressing toilet roll to his arm. The cuts had long since dried but Phil didn’t let go. “You play?” Phil nodded to the guitar and an irritated look crossed the boy’s face. “Dude, did you listen to anything I just said?” when Phil didn’t reply, he sighed and stood up. “Yeah. I’ve played since I was ten.”_

_The cuts were healed now- the only trace of them were smears of red smudged over the boy’s olive skin. Phil stood up too and with a groan, lifted himself onto the sink- grabbing the guitar. The boy just watched with his arms folded. But he was smiling, clearly amused. His eyebrows shot up in confusion._

_“Do you know the chords to Starlight by Muse?” Phil clumsily strummed the guitar strings, his pinky and index finger playing a flat melody. The boy looked like he was in pain for a second while Phil attacked the guitar strings, humming the tune to Starlight under his breath. The boy twitched slightly when Phil started to strum every string._

_“Oh god, you’re hurting him!” the boy moved forward swiftly and snatched the guitar out of Phil’s arms but winked when Phil let out an irritated “Oi! I was getting the hang of that!”_

_“Do you want to kill Rusty?” the boy shot Phil a serious look before climbing on the sink himself, shuffling so he was touching knees with Phil before resting the guitar against his chest, his fingers - which looked bruised and rough from over-playing, started to strum the guitar softly and he looked almost at peace, a small smile appearing on his lips._

_Phil watched the boy’s fingers, then hand, slowly strum a melody. His hands were so intricately placed, fingers strumming at a perfect pace. It took him a few seconds to realize it, but once he did, Phil let out a short laugh and nudged the boy. “Hey, you do know the chords to Starlight!” he nodded in time to the opening melody and felt a rush of something hit him once the chorus floated around him- a calm melodic murmur wrapping itself around him. The boy nodded and joined in humming the melody, using the palm of his hand to slam the base to the beat. Phil felt a spark of something when the boy leaned into him, resting that scruffy and unruly mop of hair on his shoulders. It felt nice. He felt content._

_“Hey, what’s your name?” the boy hesitated before murmuring. “So I know who to blame for Rusty’s untimely death.”_

_Phil giggled. The type of giggle a thirteen year old does when she see’s her crush across the road. “It’s Phil.” he replied with a warm smile, except his stomach was doing flip flops. “And yours?” He turned slowly to meet the boy’s eyes. “Sorry,” the boy mumbled, but he did not look away. “I think Rusty’s done for the night.”_

_The stranger wasn’t playing anymore. A comfortable silence fell over the two boys and Phil reached out to brush the boy’s fringe out of his face. “You should stop hiding, y’know.”_

_The boy smirked. “What, you actually like what you see?” his words were out in a rushed breath and Phil noticed his hands were shaking. “Seriously,” Phil murmured softly. He moved closer to the nameless boy and slowly leaned towards the boy, who leaned in too. Phil wrapped his arms around the boy and nestled his face in the kid’s shoulders._

_“Never do that again.” Phil felt tears falling down his own cheeks and choked. “You’re worth so much more than that you hear me?” the boy made a similar choking noise which sounded like “yes”._

_“Life is so much more, okay?” he repeated his crazy uncle’s words into the boy’s damp shoulder. “Just go out and do something with it. Because-” he cried harder, squeezing the boy tighter to his chest. “You never know how long you have left.”_

_They held each other for a while, before the boy pulled away smiling this time. His eyes were wet with tears but he swiped them with a choked laugh. “I- I never told you my name!” the boy’s eyes were bright and happy and Phil swore it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in awhile. The boy opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door flying open violently causing both boys to nearly jump out of their skin._

_“What’s-” the boy was cut off by an almighty crash and a disembodied male yell. “On your knees!”_

_And then everything vanished. Poof. Gone. Leaving Phil standing in complete darkness. The boy melted away, his guitar and the murky walls, the fluorescent lights of the boy’s toilets seemed to fade from existence._

_And then…light. Like looking through a tunnel, there was a bright light growing slowly; firstly a spark, slowly becoming a burning star._

_Phil had no choice but to walk towards it._

“Never die!” His uncle’s voice was somewhere he couldn’t quite locate. He no longer felt limbs- his arms and legs were gone. “Do you hear me, Phil? DON’T DIE!”

~

Phil blinked. He was back in the finishing school, back in the office with the others. He vaguely heard PJ still explaining the rules but he was too overwhelmed by the memory.

I died. The memory confirmed it, but still left questions. How did I die? Who killed me?

“Are you okay?” Phil felt his heart, even if it wasn’t completely real, start to rhythmically slam against his chest - and looked up to meet eyes with guitar boy. Oh god, he was there when I died Phil swallowed and nodded at the brown eyed boy. The nameless kid who he had told to live. To fucking LIVE his life, and here he was. Stuck in the afterlife with Phil.

“Okay?” the boy grinned and shook his head so his fringe a _scruffy unruly mop_ fell in his eyes. “Anyway, I’m Daniel!” the boy looked way too excited to be in this situation. “Well, call me Dan actually,” guitar boy- Dan’s- eyes practically glowed. Phil nodded weakly. “I’m Phil.” he said with the enthusiasm of a rock.

Dan’s eyes darkened for a fraction of a second before the boy seemed to shake off the sudden whatever it was “Phil?” Dan grinned. “I knew someone called Phil! Back when I was alive that is,” the boy seemed to rack his mind and Phil gave up being hopeful. “Huh, probably just a high school friend.”

 _He doesn't remember me_. Phil wondered if dead people could cry. “Yeah, probably.”

“Hey!” Dan clapped him on the shoulder. “Do you wanna come and see our show?” Phil’s eyes automatically landed on the boy’s guitar which was still leant against the wall.

This was no rusty. This guitar looked brand new and bore sleek wood- it’s strings perfectly lined and not one out of line. Unlike Rusty.

“Play?” Phil said stupidly. He was too busy trying to figure out how him and Dan died. If he was going to accept being dead, the least that could happen was remembering his own death. Dan nodded. “Yeah! We keep the NR’s busy while the others distract the prefects.”

“NR’s?” Phil repeated with a frown. Dan looked serious for a miniature second. “Yeah. NR’s (Not-Real’s) are kids who came here but didn't move on or find closure for their death,” he adopted a sad look and he sighed. “They just wander the halls as empty zombies, nothing there anymore.” he pointed to his head and heart, shrugging. “The thing is though, I don’t want to know how I died, y’know?”

Phil thought Dan might actually burst into tears then, so he quickly changed the subject. “So you guys distract everyone so the others can…” he frowned. “Can what exactly?”

Dan’s expression brightened. “So we can make sure the prefects don’t reap anyone. It’s great! We do five songs, the NR’s get so excited and rowdy that the angel’s give up.”

That sounds fun he thought mockingly. But looking at Dan’s expression, he had a hard time saying no. “Uh, sure?” he forced a smile. “When exactly is it?”

Dan’s smile was brighter than any light he had ever seen, even when he walked into the damn heavenly light. Dan didn’t have the wings of an angel, but he looked just like one.

“Now.” Dan said in a playful whisper, before grabbing his arm, and yanking him out the door.

 _Dan died at the same time as me. In the same place._ Phil thought. _But something was nagging at him, something he swore he had missed._

_Why are we both here?_

-


End file.
